Hero (Tom Hiddleston)

18

Hey guys. So. I've been largely off of Wattpad for almost two months. I don't even know or want to know how long it's been since I updated this book. I'm sorry. I know it's the same stupid song with every dang update and every dang time I disappear, but I just... I love Wattpad and everyone on here, and it honestly does make me sick to be so flakey. My life's just kind of a mess right now. It really sucks to be in the performing arts right now, and thanks to the trashed economy, I even lost my minimum wage job and it took me a month to find a new one... and now that one is such a toxic environment that I don't know if I can last through month I'm supposed to have it for (seasonal position). On top of that, anxiety is a witch and it's made it impossible to write even when I have a minute to do it. But I'm fine, seriously... I'm not saying any of this to make y'all feel bad for me, because I'm really really okay. I just want you guys to know that I'm not done with this website. I'm going to keep loving the community and updating my stories and writing new ones... I've just, yeah, been a mess lately... I mean even more of one that usual. So thank you so much for sticking with me. I'll try to get it together soon. 

  She'd completely silenced her phone, but that didn't stop the screen from lighting with each and every incoming call. It hadn't gone dark for more than thirty seconds all morning. She was guessing Grey had made some phone calls. Maybe one or two of them had figured out on their own, but he was absolutely desperate to get a hold of her, and she knew he'd call everyone she knew to see if they knew anything. Besides, he'd already called Kyran. Lucky for her, he'd been working and unable to pick up when he did. But Kye had told her he planned to call him back, gently saying how much he told him would be up to her.

And then, panicked, with fresh, burning cuts hidden under her sleeve, she'd chosen Tom.

Now, she was regretting it with everything inside of her, nauseated, her heart beating out of her chest, her head throbbing, while he signed paperwork in the other room.

This was Tom Hiddleston.

What the actual **** had she been thinking?

She glanced down at the phone screen as it lit up yet again.

Pastor Isaac

The list was expanding, and it was wonderful, just freaking wonderful.

What if the kids at school figured it out?

A fresh wave of sickness made its way into her stomach.

They didn't use her name, they blurred her face... only people who knew her really, really well should be able to tell.

But what if? What if, what if?

Girls had been shunned, harassed, and mercilessly mocked for a lot less. Called all sorts of things that didn't even apply to them. She would know. They did apply to her.

Could they expel her for that?

For being a literal ******* prostitute?

Yeah, they probably could.

The door opened, Tom walking out with a folder in hand, and her panic came to life. She jolted to her feet, looking up at him in fear and apologeticness.

"This is a mistake. I'm sorry. I never should have..."

"Shae, honey, stop." Pauline spoke before he could. "You made a decision, and I think it was a good one. If you guys give it a try and it doesn't work out, that's one thing. Feeling guilty and backing out now is another, and I'm not gonna let you do it."

Her heart kept beating faster, her breath coming in short gasps as she backed away. "No, no, I... I can't... I can't be..."

Her back hit a wall, and she crumbled, her legs suddenly too weak to hold her up.

What was happening to her?

She pressed her hands against her eyes, silently begging her head to stop pounding so she could think clearly.

Someone knelt in front of her. A trace of high-end cologne told her it was Tom.

"Can you hear me, Shae?" he asked softly.

She nodded a little, still struggling to breathe, palms still over her eyes.

"Good." He took a deep breath. "I know this is scary. I know that I will never know everything you have to fight in your own head. But I can promise you two things: you are safe with me, and you are welcome with me. You are not a burden, you are not a problem, and you never will be. Alright?"

She didn't answer. She couldn't. All she could do was focus on trying not to suffocate. It didn't feel like the short, jagged breaths she was choking out were even bringing in any oxygen.

What was happening to her?

She sensed that he was moving, felt him settle into a seat on the wall a few inches away from her. "Take all the time you need," he told her simply. "I'll be here when you're ready."

"Shae you need to breathe, Sweetheart." Pauline's voice sounded distant. "Do you want some water?"

She shook her head. She'd just end up spilling it everywhere.

"Okay, well, Baby, you need to calm down. It's all gonna be okay."

Shae wished she would just shut up.

If she could just calm down, if she could just breathe, she would.

"It's alright, Pauline," Tom spoke up from next to her. "You can get back to work. We'll head out when she's ready. Thank you for all of your help."

The woman sighed, but agreed after a moment. "If you say so. And Tom? That card I gave you, I'd call in the next day or two. This looks like a full-blown anxiety attack."

Anxiety attack?

No. No way.

What else could possibly be happening?

She didn't know, but she refused to be screwed up in yet another way.

What card was she talking about anyway? Who was he supposed to call?"

She heard a door shut... Pauline going back into her office.

She tried once again to calm her own breathing.

The gasps slowed a little. Her racing heart began to do the same.

She felt like all the strength had left her body. She started to tremble a little.

Regardless, she was inhaling and exhaling like a normal human again. Her hands dropped from her face, her head to her knees.

She stayed like that for a long moment, suddenly aware of the water streaming down her face.

Her voice came out tiny. "I think I'm ready now."

Hesitantly, she looked up, just in time to see him getting to his feet and holding out his hand to her, an encouraging expression on his face. She was still trembling as she allowed him to help her to her feet.

"There you go," he affirmed quietly. "You're doing great."

Somehow, she followed him out of the building and into the car.

It all felt too normal, him in the driver's seat and her in shotgun. It was a nice car, but nothing that would really catch your eye on the street. There was no professional driver.

Normal.

No. None of this was normal.

None of her was normal.

How was this... any of this... happening?